The Twelve
by My Dear Professor McGonagall
Summary: Twelve seasonal oneshots for the twelve Weasley grandchildren!
1. Victoire's First Christmas

Whew, when was the last time I hit the 'new story' button, amirite?

Welcome to this year's Yuletide HP Extravaganza! We're looking at 12 one shots for 12 Weasley grandkids. You with me? You're with me. Victoire first! Sorry about the dates, clearly I cannot pay attention to my calendar, so there'll probably be two updates today! :)

LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH IT HURTS HAPPY MERRY WONDERFUL HOLIDAYS LOVE YOUUUUUU ALL! (Also today was a terrible TERRIBLE day at work and writing this made me feel much better. From here on out things are generally happy. Promise. Kind of.)

* * *

14 December 2000

Fleur nodded sleepily as she patted Victoire's back, waiting for her to burp; she was quite used to being awake in the wee hours of the morning, now, but after six months she was more than ready for Victoire to start sleeping through the night.

"Any time you are ready, ma petite," she sighed, shifting the baby to her other shoulder. "Any time…"

Lately, though, Fleur had begun to doubt whether she could sleep; it felt as though she'd been awake for days. Molly had always told her that when she became a mother, she never slept with a sick child in the house. Victoire was starting to understand that now—except it was Molly she was fretting over, not Victoire.

Molly had relapsed with a terrible case of dragon pox, just as she had two Christmases ago after Fred had died—only this time it was serious enough that she had to be taken to St. Mungo's. Fleur hadn't realized, amidst the slight annoyances that came with having Molly as a doting grandmother to Victoire, how very necessary Molly's presence had become for her.

But with a baby in the house, the chances of Fleur being able to visit her were slim—even Bill had to avoid being in close proximity to his mother, for fear of getting Victoire ill, as well. Lately, he had taken to staying at the hospital to look after anything that Arthur might need, and then spending a great deal of time at the Burrow, keeping it secure and in good order.

There was a gentle creaking noise from downstairs; Fleur sat up. If Bill had come home, then perhaps…she held her breath, keeping Victoire close in her arms.

The bedroom door opened, and Bill appeared. He was rubbing his eyes with one hand, his head hanging low.

"Bill," Fleur said, and he jumped.

"I didn't think you'd be up," he replied, coming close. He sat on the footstool in front of her, his eyes on Victoire. He put out a hand and gently rubbed the baby's back, his expression unreadable.

"Bill," she whispered, "ees…'ow ees Molly?"

Bill's fingers tensed, and he moved his hand to take Fleur's. "She's better," he said, his voice tight in his throat. "But not…she's still got some way to go. Her fever is back."

Fleur squeezed his hand. "I am sorry," she said, feeling her own throat stick painfully.

He nodded. "I…I got to talk to her, though," he went on, "tonight. She said I had to—to give you a kiss," he said, giving her a smile, "and tell Victoire 'happy Christmas,' from her granny."

Fleur swallowed. "Even eef—eef Molly ees not well zis year," she said, "Zere weel be many more Christmases for 'er and Victoire. I know eet."

Bill nodded, and Victoire gave a disgruntled little moan against Fleur's shoulder—then Fleur found the baby and herself wrapped in a tight hug, which Bill did not release for a very long time.


	2. Albus & Rose's First Christmas

SERIOUSLY AGH I AM SO BEHIND

I swear, I'll just power through and get all caught up today, I promise. I AM ON IT.

* * *

15 December 2006

"Merlin's pants, it's freezing out," Ginny chattered through her teeth, holding Albus tight under her cloak. He squirmed and tried to wriggle back from her, disgruntled that his nap had been disturbed for a dinner party. "Come on, Ron, answer the door," she muttered. Harry, who was standing beside her on the doorstep, was struggling with a squirmy two-year-old. James was trying to catch the snowflakes in his mitten-clad hands.

"No!" he cried happily. "No, Mumma, no!"

"I know, baby, it's snowing," Ginny cooed. "All right there, Daddy?"

"Fine," Harry managed to say, pushing his glasses back onto his face before they fell off. "Oof, Jamie, mate—"

"Hello!" Hermione had flung the door wide, and a wave of warmth, bright light, and an overpowering smell of cinnamon and cloves washed over them. Hermione had a piece of holly tying up her bushy hair and wore last year's Weasley sweater; Mum had decided that powder blue was to be Hermione's designated color. This one had a massive snowflake on the front.

But Hermione's festive attire was nothing compared to what had evidently been done to the house. What Ginny could see of the inside corridor was draped in gold tinsel and scarlet ribbons, and she could see some glittering baubles on the ceiling that might have been the source of the tinkling Christmas music just audible over Hermione's greetings.

"You made it! I had no idea it was going to be this cold," Hermione said brightly, drawing Harry and Ginny in and quickly closing the door behind them. "Happy early Christmas!"

"Amynee!" James squealed, sticking his arms out for Hermione, and she took him happily.

"Come into the sitting room, we've just been getting the decorations ready," she said brightly, giving James a kiss on the cheek. "We can start the tree, Jamie—you want to put the baubles on the tree? Yes?"

"Hermione, what's that smell?" Ginny asked, shrugging off her cloak; Harry helped her out of it and carefully avoided meeting her eyes as they followed Hermione and James into the living room.

"Wow. Hermione, that's…"

"A great tree, right?" Ron said, grinning hugely but giving Ginny a warning look. He too was wearing his maroon Christmas sweater, seated on the hearthrug with Rose in his lap. She shrieked delightedly as Harry and Ginny appeared, waving her fat little arms in their direction.

Harry and Ginny exchanged furtive looks, repressing their grins; Hermione had been preparing for Rose's first Christmas since Halloween had ended, and her planning had left nothing undone—every inch of their sitting room was covered in green and gold, and the half-finished tree in the corner took up a good five feet of space in all directions. The star on top was bending against the ceiling.

Ginny passed sleepy Albus to Harry, who joined Ron on the rug, and went over to hug Hermione, who was pouring eggnog at the sidetable. She'd turned James loose; he was sneaking up on Ron, who was gamely pretending not to notice.

"The house looks great," Ginny told her. "Happy Christmas."

"You don't think it's too much?" Hermione faced her anxiously. "I just—I really wanted it to be special for Rosie."

"No, no, not too much …" Ginny faltered at the look Hermione gave her. "Okay, well, it's—maybe _thorough_ is the better word. You're a very thorough person. That's not a bad thing."

Hermione rolled her eyes and placed a cup in Ginny's hand, raising her own. "Thanks for that," she shook her head. "There's no firewhisky in these."

Ginny grimaced. "One more month, I've decided," she said, swilling the thick eggnog around in the glass. She jerked her head over at Albus, who was making faces at Rose by the fireside. "Then he's on his own."

Hermione laughed. "I think that sounds about right." She clinked her glass against Ginny's. "Happy first Christmas," she said.

"Oh, I suppose," Ginny grinned. Then she took her hand and squeezed it gently. "Welcome to the party, Hermione."

"Hey, any chance we can get some of that?" Harry called over to them, as he attempted to wrangle both James and Albus from getting too close to the fire.

"Or at least a little adult supervision over here?" Ron suggested, seizing Rose by the ankle and drawing her back (to her immense delight) before she could get too close to one of the boxes of Christmas baubles.

Hermione and Ginny smirked at each other and joined their family under the ridiculously oversized Christmas tree.


	3. Louis's First Christmas

16 December 2004

Louis lay serenely in his grandmother's lap, blinking slowly up at Apolline. The fire was dying in the parlor, just barely twinkling off of the enormous, beautifully decorated Christmas tree. Fleur smiled in amusement.

"What's that look, Mother?" she asked in French.

Apolline sighed. "Five months, and I still can't believe him."

Fleur laughed, folding her arms. "I think the only person who was more surprised than you that I had a boy is me. Or Bill."

"It was just a few Christmases ago you were in this room with me, crying, because you thought that you would never have a child," Apolline told her. "And now here you are, with _three_, and one of them a son." She took Fleur's hand across the couch. "My mother would never have believed this, waiting twenty-odd years to have me."

Fleur swallowed. "Sometimes I don't believe it, myself."

"He is sleepy," Apolline said, taking Louis's hand and shaking it gently. He gave an amused, but tired giggle. "Is it time for bed, my little one? Is it? Yes, I think so…"

Fleur stretched and got up to take Louis. "We have had a long day," she sighed, as Apolline handed her the baby. "I'm so glad to be home, though."

"We are thrilled that you're here," Apolline assured her, rising and kissing her cheek. They walked together to the door of the parlor, heading for the large staircase. "I won't lie, going to England for your cold winters was not the highlight of my last few years."

Fleur laughed. "So temperamental, Mother," she teased, "We English love the cold!"

"We?" Apolline asked sardonically as they climbed the stairs. "Do I remember a girl who sent me a frantic letter in her first English winter, begging for all of her capes and cloaks to be sent at once?"

Fleur smirked, hugging Louis, who gave another sleepy sigh and tangled his little fingers in her hair. "Well, now I have these ones to keep me warm," she said, and Apolline smiled.

"Mumma?"

Fleur and Apolline looked up the staircase; Victoire and Dominique stood at the top hand in hand, their hair like haystacks and their little blue nightgowns rumpled. Apolline smiled.

"What are you doing awake?" she asked. "Eet is so late."

"We heard you," Dominique said, rubbing her eye sleepily. Apolline bent and picked her up.

"You weel catch cold," Fleur admonished, as Victoire took her hand. "Come on, back to bed…"

"You're all louder than the girls in the dormitory," groaned Gabrielle in French, appearing in her doorway. "I'm starting to miss Beauxbatons, after all."

Apolline smiled at her, then looked around at Dominique, Fleur, Victoire, and the baby. "All right—a cup of cocoa for everyone, and zen back to bed. Fleur?"

She looked down at Louis, who had already drifted off contentedly in her arms and was snoring with his little mouth wide open. "'E sleeps like your daddy," she told Victoire, who giggled. "Okay, one cocoa. _Viens, viens,"_ she said, and Victoire hopped eagerly down the stairs after Apolline and Dominique.

"I like zis one," Gabrielle said, pointing at Louis as she passed. "Zey are so much more quiet before zey can talk."


	4. Lucy's First Christmas

WE ARE JUST GOING TO POWER THROUGH THESE YOU GOT ME?

LEGGO.

* * *

17 December 2010

Audrey sneezed, curling up tighter under her blankets, and wiped her nose with her handkerchief.

"Bless you," Percy said. He was helping Molly hang a green bauble on the Christmas tree. Lucy sat in the bouncing chair that Arthur had made for her, near the tree. She squealed and tried to pull an angel ornament from a nearby branch, but Percy stopped her just in time. "Do you want some tea?" he asked, moving the angel somewhere safer.

Audrey nodded; her throat was too sore for her to talk above a whisper. "Lemon and honey?" she asked.

"All right," he said, getting up. He faced the baby seriously. "Lucy, you're in charge—don't let your mum get up." She cooed and gave a wild shriek of laughter. "Molly-girl, come help Daddy with the tea."

"Tee-tee," Molly babbled, taking Percy's hand and wobbling along beside him out of the room.

"Oh," Lucy said sadly, watching them go. She deflated slightly in her seat.

Audrey smiled and slid off the couch, bringing her blankets with her. "How's Mummy's girl?" she whispered, coming to sit with Lucy, who looked concernedly back at her and reached out a hand for Audrey's very red nose. "Oh, I know," she murmured, catching Lucy's fingers, "You're sorry you gave Mummy your cold."

Lucy pressed her little mouth closed and huffed, her large eyes still full of worry.

"Well, Miss Lucy, it just happens that I _like_ this cold," Audrey informed her, jiggling Lucy's seat, "Because it means I don't have to go to work, and I get to stay with my two favorite girls _all day long_."

Lucy gurgled, flexing her fingers and grabbing onto Audrey's hand. Suddenly, there was a little gasp, and Audrey looked up. Molly stood in the doorway. She pointed at Audrey dramatically.

"Mumma! Mumma seep! _Seep!"_ she insisted, hurrying over and pulling at Audrey's blankets. "Go _seep!"_

Audrey smiled and pulled Molly into a tight hug as Percy came back into the room with the tea tray. He spotted Audrey and shook his head. "We've got to hire some better help around here," he said, setting down the tray. "Honestly, Lucy."

"Ooh," she sighed, with a self-satisfied little smile.


	5. Fred's First Christmas

18 December 2003

"Okay," George said seriously, staring down at his son, who was frowning back at him from his crib, "Now listen up, all right? It's three in the morning. I'm all for a late night, but that's for when you're at Hogwarts and you can annoy the pants off of Professor McGonagall. Understand?"

Fred scrunched up his face and grunted.

"Your mum's got practice in the morning, I can't go and bother her," George pleaded. "Come on, you have to sleep, mate."

"Are you bartering with our son?" asked a sleepy voice.

"Oh—no, he's—he's just not sleeping, yet," George said quickly, facing Angelina. She stood in the doorway, her arms folded. "It's all right, you can go back to bed."

"Is he hungry?" she yawned, pushing her hair back and coming over to the crib.

"He had half a bottle, and I changed him," George said helplessly.

"Did you try offering him a broomstick as ransom?" she asked, bending over and scooping Fred up. He wailed unhappily. "I'll feed him, that's probably what he's after."

"Sorry," George said gloomily. "I'll sit up with you."

"Okay," Angelina smiled, settling on the carpet in the middle of the room. She patted a spot beside her. "Come on."

"I got you that chair for a reason," George chuckled, sitting down beside her.

"I like being on the floor," Angelina replied, "I can't fall asleep holding him."

George was quiet for a minute. "Feels like I just can't get him to sleep, lately," he said quietly. Angelina had her eyes on the baby. "It's odd. I used to…I don't know, he used to like me better, when I'd put him to bed."

Angelina lifted her gaze. "He's all of three months old. He's got no idea what he likes."

"That's comforting, thanks, Ange," he told her.

"George, he—he's a baby. Babies are either thrilled with what's happening or annoyed as hell," she said. "Freddie just happens to opt for the second one a little more often."

George frowned.

"It's not a bad thing," Angelina said hastily. "Actually, it reminds me a lot of you. You would always get so angry when any of us were doing something you couldn't do, especially on the Quidditch team. It's probably the only reason you passed that Charms O.W.L.—because I was going to beat you in it."

"Not true," George mumbled, though he could feel himself going red.

"Instead of being upset because he won't sleep," Angelina said, "Take it as a compliment that your son is as irritatingly competitive as you've always been."

George stared at her, his mouth open. "That's quite a way with words you've got. I feel loads better."

She smirked. "That's what I'm here for. That and—"

Fred gave another long, loud wail and began to cry.

"Aha," George said, satisfied, "So you can't get him to sleep, either."

Angelina closed her eyes, wincing at the noise. For his age, Fred had quite an impressively loud cry. "Well," she said, over Fred's loud cries, "at least he's still small enough that we can have some fun with it."

"What?" George asked.

"Let's put him in a Father Christmas suit for the Christmas card picture," she suggested. "Then we can show it to the first girl he brings home from Hogwarts."

"I love the way your mind works," George grinned.

"That's why you married me," Angelina reminded him, as baby Fred continued to wail loudly.


	6. Dominique's First Christmas

DAMN LOOK AT THAT!

Okay, now I realize that it's 100% my fault that I got so behind (exams, work, blah blah blah), but you know how much I love your reviews and how much I love hearing from all of you! So if you have a minute... ;) you know what to do. You're all so wonderful and I love you madly.

I swear I'll stay caught up, this time! With Candles, too! AUGHHH! (Working in retail this time of year is murder)

* * *

19 December 2002

A loud cry startled Bill awake from somewhere right above his head. He looked up and nearly fell out of bed; a misshapen silhouette was looming above him as he slept. Then he realized that it was Fleur, holding Dominique.

"Merlin's pants, you scared me," he gasped, flopping onto his back. "Everything all right?"

"Eet's cold in ze girls' bedroom," Fleur whispered, pointing to the little lump of blankets that could only be Victoire curled up in the middle of the bed.

"Oh…" said Bill, starting to get up. "I'll take a look at it…"

"Eet can wait until tomorrow," she told him, patting his arm. "Just stay 'ere wiz us."

Dominique gave another soft wail, and Victoire turned over in her little nest of blanket.

"Sure you're all right, pretty girl?" Bill asked softly.

Fleur nodded, but she was keeping her face turned away from him. "I was just…theenking about all zat I 'ave to do, before my parents arrive."

"I'll help you with all that," he told her. "You know I will…"

"I know, chére," Fleur promised. "I—I just weesh I felt more—confident zat zey weel 'ave a nice time."

"Fleur…we've done Christmases like this before," said Bill. "Losing people we love is…it's really hard. But your parents were there for us, four years ago—now it's our turn. And I think that just being together makes all the difference."

He could see Fleur was trying to smile. "Mina was…she was such an eemportant part of Christmas, you know? I don't know 'ow to 'ave it wizout 'er. And…I weesh she could 'ave seen…" She trailed off, and Bill put an arm around her shoulders.

Fleur sighed. "I regret not going back to France in ze spring," she admitted quietly. "It would 'ave been nice to see 'er one last time. Now last Christmas was ze last memory I 'ave of 'er." Bill squeezed her shoulders. "Now I theenk…my parents are changing all of zere Christmas plans, so zat zey don't 'ave to theenk about it. You know 'ow my muzzer feels about coming 'ere," she laughed morosely.

Bill smiled. "They need a break, Fleur. They've been in their house every day, feeling like Mina's about to come round the corner with dinner ready and a fresh flower arrangement for your mum's office. It's hard. It's the main reason I've been so impressed with George, carrying on with the shop the last few years…" Fleur pressed closer against him. "We just need to be there for them, and for Gabrielle, and…next year, they'll feel better."

Fleur sighed again. "I know," she said. "I just…I weesh I was not so sad."

"I think it's a good thing," Bill said firmly, and she frowned at him. He nodded down at drowsy little Dominique. "I think it means that we named our daughter after someone who couldn't have brought more love into her life if she'd tried."

"She ees my little Mina," Fleur said softly, gently bouncing the baby.

"She's like a new Christmas tradition," Bill said, after a minute or two.

Fleur raised her eyebrows. "I 'ope zat does not mean what it sounds like it means, Bill Weasley."


	7. Hugo's First Christmas

*shakes head*

Oh, Hugo, you just don't even know what you got yourself born into.

* * *

20 December 2007

"Hermione? Hermione, are you asleep?"

"No," Hermione mumbled into her pillow, "I'm lying here in the dark because it's fun."

"Well, can you wake up?" Ron asked.

"I already fed Hugo, if he's awake just rock him," she groaned.

"You really don't want me to make up for our fight, do you?" Ron said, feeling simultaneously exasperated and amused.

Hermione cracked one eye open. "Well, I haven't figured out how to make it up yet, so…no."

Ron lay down and put his face right beside hers. "I'm sorry we still fight over stupid stuff. I'm sorry I prod you when you're annoyed. I'm irritating, and I know it."

Hermione's expression softened. "Well…I'm a know-it-all. And I'm sorry, too."

"You're all right, really, as know-it-alls go," he said fairly, and she shoved his shoulder. "Now do you want to see what I did, or not?"

"What you did?" Hermione frowned. "What do you—?"

"It was Dad's idea," Ron explained. "I guess he and your dad got to talking last time we were all together, and…well, just come out and take a look!"

Hermione lifted her head, still frowning. "Out? Out where?"

"Shh," he told her, pressing a finger to his lips as a soft, disgruntled wail sounded from the bassinet in the corner. "Don't wake the gnome."

Hermione rolled her eyes, picked up her dressing gown and got up to see to Hugo, who was starting to whimper. Ron pretended to scowl.

"Well, I guess he can come," he conceded. "But come along! Get your slippers on, and get him an extra blanket."

"What have you done?" Hermione asked in exasperation, even as she wrapped Hugo in a woolly blanket. "Ron…"

"Just come along, before the other gnome hears us," he whispered, already slipping out the bedroom door.

He heard Hermione padding along behind him through the corridor and down the stairs, pausing only to listen and be sure he hadn't disturbed Rose. He beckoned Hermione and Hugo through the front door, onto the little patch of the front walk he had melted clear of snow.

"Oh," Hermione gasped, looking up at the house. "Oh, _Ron!"_

"I know how much you like squeezing lights on the tree," he said sheepishly. "I didn't think a few more on the house would be too much work." Then he looked at his watch. "Yeah, it's only about two."

Hermione tore her eyes away from the rainbow of enchanted Muggle Christmas lights that Ron had spent the better part of the night attaching firmly to the front of their little cottage. "It's beautiful," she said, leaning forward and giving him a gentle kiss. "We've never done anything like this."

Ron shook his head. "We've never really had a Christmas fight, either. I figured it could be tradition."

"What, the fight or the lights?" Hermione laughed, bouncing Hugo.

Ron shrugged. "As long as we make up," he said, putting an arm around her. Then he took the baby out of her arms, holding him up to gaze sleepily at the glittering lights. "What do you think, Hugo?" he asked. "Eh? Have you or have you not got the greatest dad ever?" He held Hugo's little ear close to his lips. "The answer is yes," he whispered.

"Definitely," Hermione agreed, kissing him once more.


	8. Lily's First Christmas

21 December 2007

Lily's cries woke Harry first, but by the time he had come to his senses enough to recognize the sound for what it was, Ginny was already stirring. He put a hand on her shoulder. "I'll go," he murmured.

"I put a bottle 'n th'kitchen," she mumbled, her face half-mashed into her pillow. Then she smiled without opening her eyes. "Thanks."

Harry grinned and sat up, blearily rubbing his face. He pulled on his dressing gown and went across the hall to Lily's bedroom. "All right," he said quietly, closing the door behind him as Lily wailed louder, "All right, Lily-girl, it's all right…"

He picked her up, but she didn't quiet. He sniffed her cautiously—years of experience with James and Albus, in particular, had taught him never to get too close to a potentially full nappy. He quickly changed her, but she kept on crying.

"What's wrong?" he asked her, "What's wrong, sweetheart? Come on, you're all right," he promised her, bouncing her gently as he walked back and forth. "Shall we get you a snack? Come on, let's find you something…"

Harry carried Lily, who was still squalling unhappily, down the stairs and into the kitchen. He didn't bother turning on the lights, but plucked a bottle from the cupboard and sat down at the table beneath the kitchen window.

"All right," he said, settling into one of the chairs with her, "Now are you going to relax?" Lily blinked tearfully up at him, but accepted the bottle. Harry smiled. "That's a good girl," he murmured.

He tipped his head back against the wall, sighing. "It's snowing, Lily," he said conversationally, looking out the window. The fat white flakes were floating down, illuminated by the light of the full moon. "Do you like the snow?"

Lily just frowned, concentrating hard on her bottle.

"Your brothers love it," Harry informed her, "At least, they like getting soaking wet and making a huge mess. Maybe now you're here you can get them to behave." She grunted, and Harry tipped the bottle a bit more for her. "Yeah, I didn't think so."

He watched the snow quietly for a few minutes. When she'd finished, he picked up a dishrag and lifted Lily to his shoulder, patting her back gently. Almost automatically, her little arm wrapped comfortably around his neck, and she relaxed peacefully, like a heavy, warm scarf. Harry chuckled and kissed her ear.

"I'm glad you're here, anyway," he whispered.


	9. Molly's First Christmas

Ah god we're behind again.

OKAY I'M WORKING ON IT I PROMISE! Be back in a few with the next one. (And I'll answer reviews soon, too)

* * *

22 December 2008

"So if we tweak that antenna, do you think—?"

"Ah—oh, sorry, Arthur," Audrey apologized as baby Molly began to cry in the little sling that bound her against Audrey's chest (it had been a gift from Ginny, who had passed it on after Lily outgrew it). "I think she just doesn't like the cold."

"Oh, well," Arthur replied, sitting back on his workbench and facing them. He pushed his glasses up onto his forehead and held out his arms for the baby. "We can go inside, can't we? Can't we, Miss Molly?"

Audrey grinned, as Molly quieted and snuffled against Arthur's shoulder. "You're really good with her."

"I've had a few years at it," he shrugged. "And she's not exactly hard to love, is she?"

"I haven't had a bad time of it," Audrey agreed. "You know, my dad and I rebuilt a regular Muggle radio once, when I was in primary school, and we did everything that we've done to this one," she said, pointing at the project they'd been working on for the last six weeks. "I think you might need to just give in and cut through the magical interference with a spell."

Arthur frowned, bouncing Molly gently. "I was hoping we might get around that," he sighed. "I wanted to know what it was like to get it working on its own."

Audrey smiled. "Let's make a date, Arthur," she said, "Christmas Day, you, me, and that one will all go into town and try out the radio, away from the Burrow. That way we have a few more days to tinker with it."

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed, and Molly wailed again. "Oh, we can go inside," he told her, "it's all right, let's go…"

Audrey stood up from the bench and stretched. "I can take her—"

"I don't get to see enough of her," Arthur said, expertly swinging his legs over the bench and rising smoothly without disturbing the baby. Audrey laughed.

"You _have_ to teach Percy how to do that."

Arthur reached a hand into his pocket and drew out a small parcel in red paper. "Before we go inside, this…well, it's sort of your Christmas gift. Molly's got a few more things tucked away for everyone, but this is a little something I've gotten the others."

"The others?" Audrey asked, taking the gift.

"Angelina, Hermione, Fleur," Arthur waved his hand. He nodded down at Molly in his arms. "Now you've got one of these, you get one of those."

"Arthur," Audrey said, as she unwrapped the package. A bracelet of braided blue silk thread slid out, with a single glass bead on it. "It's beautiful."

"Fleur's has three beads," Arthur explained, taking the bracelet out of her hand and holding it up to the light. "Angelina and Hermione have two. You've got one."

Audrey beamed. "Where did you find these?"

"Muggle shop," Arthur said, presenting her with it once more. "I was looking for an alarm clock."

Audrey put the bracelet on, still smiling. "It's beautiful," she said, kissing his cheek. Arthur patted her back. "Thank you. You're a wonderful father-in-law."

"Well, when I get Christmas presents like this," he shrugged, as Molly squirmed in his arms.


	10. Roxanne's First Christmas

THERE. Ugh oh god I just need like one afternoon off of work.

* * *

23 December 2007

"You're all right?" Angelina whispered to George, who was resting his head on her shoulder as she fed Roxanne. "Rough night, for a Ministry party."

George nodded, putting out a hand and stroking Freddie's curly head; their four-year-old had developed an overwhelming fear of Father Christmas and refused to sleep in his own bed for a week. "I liked seeing those pictures Dennis had," he said heavily. "I just…hate that Fred was asking questions about it already."

Angelina nodded, looking down at Roxanne. "Me too. But…we named him—both of them, actually—after people they're never going to meet," she said. "Sooner or later, they'll have to know why."

"Yeah, and then they'll have to know more, and more, and they'll hear all this—this stuff," George said. He grimaced. "Can't we just…I don't know, keep them about that size?" he asked, pointing at Roxanne. "Maybe if we sat on Freddie…"

Angelina chuckled and patted the side of George's head. "We'll figure it out. I'm not exactly looking forward to telling this one about my mum and dad," she confessed, nodding at Roxanne. "But whenever it comes up, or however—we can do it together, right?"

"Right," George sighed. "We'll figure it out."

They were both quiet for a long time; Fred snorted in his sleep and rolled over on to George's side of the bed. George just pulled him closer and patted his back.

Then, as Roxanne was drifting back to sleep on Angelina's shoulder, Angelina whispered, "And if we chicken out, we can always get Harry to tell them whatever he plans on telling _his_ kids. He has a lot more explaining to do than we have."

George laughed. "I like you, Johnson."

"You're all right," she answered, ruffling his hair as she got up to settle Roxanne in her crib once more.


	11. James's First Christmas

Yayyyyy

Merry merry, all you beautiful people. I love you.

* * *

24 December 2004

"_We wish you a Merry Christmas, we wish you a Merry Christmas…"_

Harry grinned and opened his eyes blearily; his head ached significantly less than it had when he'd gone to bed last night. Ginny stood in the doorway of their bedroom, a fresh glass of Pepper-Up Potion in one hand and three-week-old James cooing in the crook of her arm.

She sat down on the bed beside Harry and put the potion on the bedside table. _"We wish you a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year."_

"Being a mum has not improved your singing voice," he told her, wriggling up to sit back against the headboard.

Ginny glared at him. "I'd look in the mirror before you go about insulting your _ravishing_ wife." She flipped her long red hair over one shoulder with her free hand and gave him a bizarre smile. Harry knew full well that, thanks to James's apparent need for only a fraction of the sleep that other newborns required, neither of them had had a proper shower in at least two days, so the effect was rather unusual.

Harry reached out and poked a few of the shorter hairs that were normally her fringe, but which now stood on end in her tangled hair. "Ravishing, indeed."

Ginny smiled, leaned forward, and kissed him, then handed him the baby. "I have to finish the spice cake for tonight. Drink your potion and keep an eye on your son. Your fever's gone down," she added. "You won't get out of a Weasley Christmas that easy."

"We can come down and help," Harry said, "Can't we, James?"

James made a small burping noise and wrinkled his nose.

"See? He's all about spice cake."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Do you feel up to it?"

"Oh, I think I can manage a trip down to the kitchen," Harry breathed, "Just maybe."

She beamed. "My hero."

Harry swigged the potion down and felt steam puff out of his ears. James, who was still in his arms, stared at this in utter amazement—he hadn't yet mastered the smile, so Harry just imagined that his popping brown eyes were the closest thing to entertainment that James was able to express.

"So," Harry said, following Ginny out of the bedroom with one hand on her shoulder, "if he's going to be too young to remember, we can skip on giving him presents this year, right?"

"Harry Potter, if your eleven-year-old self ever heard you say that!"


	12. Christmas Day

"Good tidings to you, wherever you are..."

I love you all more than I can explain. Your little notes bring joy to my day and a smile to my face. Have a safe, happy, and wonderful holiday season.

Love always,

Lucy

* * *

25 December 1999

Christmas at the Burrow was winding down at last, at nearly a quarter past midnight. Teddy had long since fallen asleep on Arthur's chest, and they were both snoring contentedly in an armchair in the corner. Andromeda and Molly chatted quietly on the sofa, as Ginny lay with her head in Molly's lap. Ron and Hermione were entwined on the spiral staircase, a few steps above George and Angelina. Percy and Audrey were playing chess beside the fire. Harry and Charlie were still nursing a plate of treacle tart each and talking lazily about Quidditch.

"Mum," Ginny murmured, as Molly stroked her hair. "Mum, d'you hear that?" she opened her eyes and looked around, toward the kitchen. "It sounds like people."

The room fell silent. Sure enough, from outside, a man's muffled voice could be heard, though what he was saying was unintelligible. There was a sudden _thud_, very close to the back door, and Ron, George, and Harry all rose, their hands going automatically to their pockets.

Then there was a deafening bang, as the kitchen door slammed open. Hermione leapt to her feet, springing down the stairs after Angelina, Ron, and George—they made a line in front of the kitchen doorway, their wands out.

"Ouch—where the bloody hell did all this snow come from?"

"Bill, are you all right?"

"Bill!" Ginny swore, and Molly made a disapproving noise. "For Merlin's sake—Fleur, you're supposed to be in France!"

"We had to come back early," Bill said, staggering into the sitting room, as Fleur tried to support him, though she, like him, was laughing hysterically. "We—we had to tell you!"

"We 'ave a Christmas surprise!" Fleur laughed breathlessly.

"Arthur!" Molly snapped. "Arthur, for heaven's sake!"

Arthur gave a snort and put a hand on Teddy's back—the baby hadn't stirred once in all the commotion. "Bill?" he asked blearily, smiling, "Fleur, when did you get here?"

"We came home to give you your Christmas present—d'you want to?" Bill asked Fleur suddenly, grabbing her hand. "You can say it—"

"I already did," she reminded him, bright pink and still giggling.

Bill stared at her. "You're fantastically beautiful," he informed her, and she went pinker still.

"Somebody say something before I jinx you apart," Ginny said, looking revolted.

"We're—that's to say, Fleur—she's going to have a baby," Bill said at last. "And it's mine, too," he added hastily.

The room fell completely silent once again.

"Wait, really?" George asked.

Suddenly, there was a high-pitched squeak, and everyone looked around; Molly had burst into tears, and was plainly trying very hard not to sob; she had clapped both hands over her mouth, rooted to the spot.

"Mum," Bill laughed. "Come here."

And Molly gave another high-pitched, overjoyed sob-squeal and flung herself around both Bill and Fleur, sobbing hysterically, as the family all chimed in happily with their congratulations. In the armchair in the corner, Arthur raised an invisible glass, as though he were toasting something, and promptly dozed off again. Teddy snored on, not waking up once.


End file.
